


Tattoos/Tattooing

by Callistra



Category: Dr Who - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Tattoos, kink bingo, tattooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-30
Updated: 2010-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:03:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callistra/pseuds/Callistra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And make it "Doctor Donna, spelled in full," Jack said, sitting back into the chair. He pulled his shirt off and handed it to Donna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tattoos/Tattooing

 

                “There are many things, Donna, in this universe that I have done,” Jack slurred, and then perked, trying to speak slowly and carefully. “And. I. Have. Never. Done. That.” Now he just sounded stupid. Donna sighed and crossed her legs again.

                “Look, bucko, git y’self out of this pub and home before you do something really stupid,” she hissed. He was too heavy for her to even try and lug home. Her home?  She gave a small sound of dismay, Mother would be home, and Grandfather somewhere, ignoring Mum.  His home then.

                “But I totally want to,” the words rushed out of his inebriated mouth. She waited, wondering if he even knew what he was saying.

                “I’d write your name on me, Donna Noble,” he swore. She couldn’t help it. She started to smile.

                “Ha! Gotcha – I would, too! Which part of me would you like signed over?” he tried to sidle closer, almost falling out of the chair. He pushed himself back into the deep seat.  She shook her head at his antics, now changed from frustratingly annoying to gently amusing. She could just leave him here. He couldn’t die, and he’d be happy with any one for company by this state.

                “You’re thinking of deserting me,” he said. 

                “It’s late, Jack,” she started to say. He ignored her; talked right over her.

“You have to come with me though. Or else they’ll spell Donna wrong. Or something.” His big blue eyes begged her, and she sighed. How could she deny him anything?

                “Not while you’re drunk,” she finally agreed. “Not tonight. I want you in bed. Now,” she said, and stood up. Not in bed the way he might be hoping, but at least if she got him there she wouldn’t lie awake worrying about him. And he would be propelled by the hope of free sex. He should make it home before he passed out, she gauged. He’d have to; she couldn’t lift him for the world.

***

                “Okay let’s get this thing done,” he said after his shower as she sat in his kitchen, coffee in one hand and toast in the other.

                Pausing in her coffee, she raised an eyebrow at him.

                “The tattoo,” he said in answer to her unspoken question.

                Her eyebrows met and she frowned at him.

                “You said you’d come, so you have to.”

                One eyebrow rose again.

                “Yes, today. No, not tomorrow, and no, not the weekend either. “He reached for his coffee.

                “There’s this thing I do, Jack. It’s called work. You should try it sometime,” she said, crossing her legs and taking another deep draught of her coffee. She peered into the cup. Damned cup was never deep enough.

                “I work,” he defended himself as he stole one corner of her toast. She gave him a pointed glare.

                “In her majesty’s service?” she said and handed him the empty coffee cup. He peered into it and then sighed.

                “I’m good at coffee,” he said into the cup. She went back to her toast and ignoring him.

                “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time, Donna,” he said, standing to look out the kitchen window. “Life seems so … fast. I want something to slow it down. Remind me. An anchor, perhaps, something I can’t actually lose.” She put her coffee down, watching his moment of stillness. She stepped up, running her hand along the length of his back, down the skin of his spine.

                “I’m never going away, Jack. You don’t need a tattoo to remind you of me,” she tried to talk him out of his mood. He caught her hand, and drew it to his lips.

                “I’ve lost a lot of people, Donna,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I don’t want to lose you too, and I have to at some point.” Her heart ached for him, for the sadness she saw in his soul. After a moment, he gave her a quick grin. Hiding his heart again, she realised. She stepped away, putting her coffee cup onto the kitchen counter and allowing his moment of withdrawal.

               “I’m on Fifth Street today,” she said. “You can take me out for lunch if you like,” she gave him a big smile, hoping he would forget the whole tattooing thing.

               “I like that idea,” he said. “I do.”

 

***

                He didn’t forget. Her lunch was already in his hand as he dragged her into the nearest tattoo parlour. She sat in the waiting room, eating her sushi slowly while Jack jiggled his knee next to her. In front of her a youth with a bright pink Mohawk grinned at her.

                “You’re not eating?” she asked Jack, who shrugged and shook his head.

                “I just didn’t feel like it,” he said.

                “You don’t have to do this, Jack,” Donna said. She hadn’t taken him seriously, thinking it was the sort of idea you what when too drunk to remember. But her name scrawled on him for eternity? How long did tattoos last? Did he really want to remember her for the next few thousand aeons?

                Jack’s name was called, and before she knew it she was in a small room with a dentist’s chair, a bench full of arcane torture equipment, and one chair with ‘VOYEUR’ written on it at a weak attempt at a joke. At least voyeur was spelled correctly. She sat down, mostly so she didn’t have to stare at the word. Jack sat on the chair, swinging his legs like a little boy.

                “So what are we doing, sir?” asked a fresh faced boy at least a decade younger than Donna. She bit into her sushi to stop herself from saying anything, chewing with unheeded ferocity.

                “I want a tattoo… where did we decide, Donna?” he looked at her. His blue eyes drilled into her. He was so serious about this! What was going on in his head? Did he know something she didn’t? She swallowed the dry and tasteless sushi and tried to think of an answer.

                “Here,” she said in a choked voice. She swallowed, and then tried again. “Right here,” she put her palm across her chest, high and to the right.

                “And make it “Doctor Donna, spelled in full,” Jack said, sitting back into the chair. He pulled his shirt off and handed it to Donna.

                “Any particular font?” the boy asked, reaching into the torture equipment and pulling out a pen and ruler.

                “Nothing weird, thanks,” Jack said, staring up at the ceiling. The boy began to dot straight lines across Jack’s chest. After a surprisingly detailed amount of preparation, he pulled out the tattooist rig, and inserted a clean new needle.

                Her eyes went wide. He was really going to go through with this! Jack’s eyes were closed, and he appeared to have entered a meditative state. She felt a surge of annoyance and love. Doctor Donna? Where had that come from?

                She reached out, and twined her fingers into his, just to feel his touch. Sometimes it seemed his tread was light on this earth; and that he would blow away just as quickly as he had blown into her life. This huge, amazing, man was having her name inscribed on his body. She closed her eyes when the boy started work and the first droplet of blood eased to the surface. She wanted to cry for the scarring of his perfect body, but she never had the right to make judgement, and she never wanted to say no ever again.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta [Transcendacing.](http://transcendancing.dreamwidth.org/profile)


End file.
